Oracle From The Deep
by crowind
Summary: Sometimes you save a turtle and it takes you to the dragon princess's castle under the sea. Sometimes you take the turtle out of the sea. The Second Mizukage has named a price: Hashirama's peace, for a jinchūriki for the Sanbi. Surely it is not a price too tall for the god of shinobi.
1. do

_There was once a young man named Urashima Taro who was known as the best fisherman in his village. One day, as he was preparing for a fishing trip, he came across a turtle. A group of children were tormenting the turtle. So Urashima Taro chased the children away, and saved the turtle._

* * *

For the third lunch, the Second Mizukage served them a concoction of local spices that left Hashirama's tongue tingling, but not in a bad way. The meat itself tasted a little like beef and melted in his mouth. It was delightful, Hashirama decided, and said to his host, a most excellent beef soup. Gengetsu dabbed his mouth, then his pristinely kept moustache with a napkin. It wasn't beef, he said. It was turtle.

"It was caught just this morning from the lovely village of Irenui, and sent here, as show of support for our negotiation. Pity about the monster attacks."

Mito shifted slightly, ostensibly to indicate that her cup should be re-filled. The gesture in someone less refined would be equivalent to waving a hand in his face and yelling. Hashirama asked for elaboration anyway, and the Mizukage hemmed and hewed. He was enjoying this, but Hashirama didn't mind, truthfully. Soon enough he'd lay his cards on the table.

"Pardon me for exaggerating. In truth there was no significant damage incurred. Oh yes, the village stood, and only one boat has been lost so far… but you know men of the sea, Hokage-dono. Superstitious lot. It's a world of its own there in the sea, fogs and sudden changes in the wind and current, and everything. Why, even experienced sailors could lose their way. But they insisted there was a monster. I had no choice but to send one of my men."

Gengetsu proposed a melancholic toast to the brave soul, and Hashirama tossed back his cup with him. Tongue well-lubricated, Gengetsu continued, "You are a remarkable man, Hokage-dono, a god among men, and dare I say, though my predecessor would not have, among shinobi. You alone wee able to subdued the demonic beasts who have plagued our civilisations for so long. And it was very magnanimous of you, gifting the little village in the continent… where was it…"

"Taki," Hashirama supplied, wondering if he should mention the Rokubi he gave to the previous Mizukage for safekeeping. "Ah, I beg your pardon, but how is the jinchūriki for the Rokubi doing?"

Hashirama searched his memory for the boy's name – it was a boy, he remembered that much – but Gengetsu shrugged, the way Hashirama imagined he shrugged the hat off his predecessor. "Well enough," Gengetsu said enigmatically. "You must understand, as a great leader of men to another, that I do not make requests easily."

"No," said Hashirama. Sincerely, he did not understand. But the Hokage would, or the god of shinobi, and Hashirama supposed he was that man for the moment. "Nor will you sign treaties carelessly. For the sake of your people."

"Say rather that it is not in our nature as shinobi. I will, however, consider. I am, after all, a very considerate man. It is a rather pretty dream, isn't it? Peace between all nations in our lifetime. Such a lofty idea must at least merit some consideration."

—

With the adults gone to the negotiation for the whole day, the children seemed to have found solace in playing cards. Kagami was embroiled in an intense poker game with the Mizukage's guards, and one boy Hashirama hadn't seen. Danzō was watching from under the protective shades of coconut trees, as though to make up for his teammate's slack, and Saika was nowhere in sight.

But even as Hashirama's panic piqued, Kagami yelled; he had lost. The Kiri boy grinned, showing off sharp, filed teeth – like a shark. When he looked back Saika was standing at attention.

Hashirama smiled. "Saika-chan! There you are. Have you been waiting long? Are you tired?"

Her expression twitched, but Hashirama's daughter demurred, "No, Hokage-sama."

Hashirama just about pouted, but the Mizukage spoke, "The boy will come with you. Think of him as – "

"Hostage?" Mito said quietly. "Sacrifice? That is, after all, in the name. Jinchūriki."

If Gengetsu was surprised by her audacity, he didn't show it. He was gazing at Saika long enough that Hashirama felt his skin crawl. "This must be your daughter. Pretty girl, like her mother. Although she doesn't look much like you, Hokage-dono." Gengetsu flashed a shark smile, nodding to Hashirama. "But I'm sure she takes after you in other ways."

Hashirama shifted as though to hide Saika behind his body. "Thank you. We'll take our leave now, to prepare. Tomorrow we shall leave for Irenui."

Gengetsu's wave was either shooing a mosquitoe or a lazy assent. Either way, the Konoha party were left to their own devices. The boys – Kagami did enough for two – fairly bounced all the way back. Poor boys, Hashirama thought with a smile, they must have been bored out of their minds, having to sit for the negotiation without sitting in it. The children went ahead to check for ambushes and damages. Hashirama wasn't worried; he had left clones for that. Thus when Mito and Hashirama arrived, Kagami was already goading Danzo into a spar. The latter held his chin high, but he seemed seconds away from giving into his desires.

Then Kagami turned to Saika, startling the poor girl. "You should come too, Saika-san. We'll take turns beating up Danzo." There was a slight crack in his voice even as he beamed.

Not today, thought Hashirama, and intervened for his daughter's sake. "I'm afraid I'll require Saika-chan's assistance for a touch longer. Have fun, you two. But don't take too long! We'll leave in a couple of hours."

"We will? But you said – "

Danzo elbowed Kagami into silence. "By your command, Hokage-sama."

Saika looked at Hashirama expectantly as the duo departed. Her face fell when he said, "You're free to go, darling. Alas, your mother and I still need to talk."

And talk they did not. Mito silently worked on her scrolls in the abandoned fortress the Konoha delegation was housed in while Hashirama puttered around the same room. It would have driven Mito insane in the early years of their marriage, just as it was a battle to pry Mito from the trenches of her mind. Hashirama paced and waited to think.

It wasn't that Hashirama didn't think on his own. Thoughts came, sometimes. His head crowded fast, so he sounded them out quickly enough for others to tear into. Mito favoured deliberation, incisive and meaningful for all that her words were fewer than his. But once in a while he would surprise her. This part thrilled him, that there were things about him his wife of a decade and more still didn't know, things still remaining to explore together. Moments that came rarer than in his time with Madara…

Moments that became rarer until they became annulled completely because Madara had willed it so. Years and a sword in the back had finally allowed him to make peace with Madara's rejection. Strength alone would not do; Madara had proven that. Vision could only fuel the fire for so long. And peace, if it ever was possible in this life, in this world, would one day be undone by its beneficiaries.

But there would have to be peace, first. He shook himself free of the well-worn worries, and grasped for a newer one. "That boy, Kagami. What's he like?" Tobirama had taken his students for his purposes, and traded him with his ducklings. Except the Akimichi had been sick, and Hashirama seized the opportunity to take his daughter along. They would all appreciate the experience: see diplomacy in action, and the other parts of the world that wasn't so green. Put guarding the Hokage on their resume. Although the part where Hashirama had refused to take any more official guards had given Tobirama conniptions.

"Kagami-kun? An Uchiha that Tobirama can bear to teach," Mito said distractedly. A strand of blood red hair had escaped its binding and fell on her eye. Annoying, but not more so than breaking her flow to remove it. This was what husbands were for, Hashirama thought fondly as he tucked the stray strand with the others.

He said, "Tobirama could bear to teach a sloth if there was a point to be made." Mito hated his peeking over her shoulder while she worked, and commenting, but he couldn't help it when she papered the floor with her stuff. And it was an mesmerising sight, the whimsical deliberation of her strokes. "That's a new design, isn't it? I don't recognise that logogram there – or is it supposed to be five dragons flying together?"

Mito peered up, dark eyes like a predator watching from behind camouflage. "The Daimyo will not be pleased. You were hired to rid his precious little coast line of Kiri-nin, not – is that Saika at the door?"

There was a small noise, then their daughter squeezed herself into the room. Fiddling with her long, red hair as Mito was wont to do when she was thinking, she said, "S-sorry. I was, I'm curious…"

"Of course, of course," Hashirama said indulgently, "What do you think, Saika-chan?"

"Um, well, what Okā-sama said. The Daimyo meant for Konoha to crush Kiri's forces on his coast. But instead you were brokering a peace deal, and now you meant to…" Here her eyes strayed to Mito. "To create a jinchūriki for the Mizukage, in exchange for peace."

Mito set down the brush. "Not create, no, that would give fūinjutsu more credit than it would ever deserve. Isolate, perhaps, give a form to the formless, ensconch the awesome into a closure within the little. Fūinjutsu, my dear, can only reduce. And so the jinchūriki is a primordial being and a human, together reduced to an imminent conflagration walking among us."

Hashirama cleared his throat. "Well, as I told the Mizukage, for the time being we'd merely observe. It might not be necessary at all. It might not even be a bijū."

Saika still looked unconvinced. "But would the Daimyo agree to a treaty he hadn't… agreed to beforehand?"

"I'm sure he would. The Daimyo is a reasonable man." He looked outside. There was still daylight. "Saika-chan, would you kindly call the boys inside? We're leaving…" Mito didn't seem to be ready yet. "That is, the boys and I will leave now while there's still light, and you and Okaa-sama will follow once you're ready."

Saika didn't reply. There was a mulish set to her jaw as she said, "With all due respect, Hokage-sama, I would like to request to come with you. Either Danzo-kun or Kagami-kun can stay with Okaa-sama."

It was rare enough that Saika took initiative on shinobi-related stuff that Hashirama was taken aback. She seemed to think this too. Flustered, she said, "I want to see a bijū in the wild… and Hokage-sama in action. I won't be a burden, I swear."

"You can leave Danzō-kun with me. He's a bit more useful than the other," Mito said, already returning to her work. As though it was only a matter of giving Saika permission to play outside. Said girl was looking at him expectantly. He felt as though he was looking at a younger Tobirama, the same profile of solemnity, the same piercing red eyes glinting with burgeoning defiance. His heart broke just a little, but Hashirama swallowed bitterness and said yes.

-—

There were a few things the Mizukage, and then the survey by Tobirama's handpicked scouts, forgot to mention. Starting with the fact that Irenui did not belong to Kiri, or the Fire Country, or, as best he could tell, any feudal lord. The guards at the gate instead wore the town's emblem, a stylish representation of the old logogram for shellfish, which he remembered from Mito's lectures, before they decided fūinjutsu was not for Hashirama, that the ancient traded in shellfish. Wealth, then, was the true lord of the town.

It was also not a small fishing village – the sea, the ships, the sheer size of the town and its bustle, easily a hundred Konoha put together. As an ordinary father taking his perfectly ordinary children for an incredibly ordinary vacation, they avoided scrutiny of the few bored Kiri-nin along the way to the port.

A steamship was pulling onto the pier. The children watched with abandon unbecoming of shinobi. But not for children. And admittedly, even Hashirama paused at the sight.

"Look, Ho–tōsan," Kagami said, smoothly rolling his tongue over the slip. Mito was right, Hashirama mused, for an Uchiha Kagami was very excited to have Hashirama as his father. Stars in his eyes as he saw the sea for the first time. He gesticulated and spoke with abandon unbecoming of shinobi – which Hashirama supposed was the last thing they were supposed to be, in disguise. Kagami continued, "What kind of a boat is that? It doesn't have paddles, and it's puffing black smoke."

"That, my boy, is called a steamship. It's powered by… can you guess?"

Kagami shook his empathically, but Saika said, "Coals?" in a timid voice.

For her disguise she had chosen Hashirama's original hair colour. That, and without the whisker-like birthmarks on her cheeks, and some tweaks to bone structure made her look more like Hashirama than she ever would. Pity that she took this look just as Hashirama was abandoning it…

"Clever girl," said the man standing next to Hashirama with a snort. He seemed like a well-to-do fellow, wrapped in fine silk kimono. "Taking your kids for a vacation, eh? You got here just in time to see the monster."

"Ah, a monster?" Hashirama said in his best clueless and frightened voice. "Isn't it dangerous?"

The man shrugged and gestured to the sea. "See that island?" Hashirama nodded. It looked, at first glance, like a small, barren island in the middle of the sea. "Every year the Three-Tailed Demon Turtle came at this time of the year. Nobody knows why, but nobody also wants to know, if you get what I mean."

Hashirama just nodded. He thought it was what ordinary people would do, regardless of whether they knew or not. "Would you happen to know if there's a way to see it from up close? I…" The painfully earnest smile he put on was not quite faked. "I don't get to take my children out of our village a lot, and this might be their only chance in a lifetime to see a, a monster."

He could see condescension shutter over the man's eye – another foolish country bumpkin, eh. "Suppose I know of a boat about to set sail in that direction shortly. A fishing boat, mind you, might be too coarse for the little miss there."

Shades of whiskers appeared on Saika's cheeks, but Hashirama quickly intervened. "That's all right. Could you kindly refer us to this boat's owner?"

It turned out to be the other man. They quickly agreed to an exorbitant fee for the service rendered, but fortunately Hashirama's wallet could handle it.

There was still time before departure. Hashirama turned, and was met with disappointed children.

"Well, children – "

"But Hashirama-sama," said Kagami, "We are your guards. Tobirama-sensei entrusted your protection detail to us and not some ANBU. How will I be able to face him?"

Hashirama was beginning to see why Tobirama liked this Uchiha. "Thank you for your dedication, Kagami-kun. Tobirama would be proud. But you see this from my position, how will I be able to face my brother if I got his precious student hurt? But fear not, you will not be idle. Do you know why genin are assigned in teams of three?"

"To cover for each other?" Kagami said suspiciously. "At least that's what Tobirama-sensei said."

"Correct! Therefore I shall leave Saika-chan in your hands."

"And what shall I do, Hokage-sama?" Saika said. There was an odd glint in her eyes. Hashirama patted her head.

"You, my darling, will wait and tell your mother where I am, if she should arrive faster. I shouldn't take too long, but we shall see. Can you do that for me?"

Saika nodded. She looked at the sea, as though Hashirama had already left.

* * *

Beta-reading credit goes to roadkill2580. All remaining mistakes are my own.

Title comes from the practice in the late Shang Dynasty of using turtle shells for divination. These are also the earliest record of ancient Chinese writing, and proof that the Shang Dynasty existed.


	2. ut

_The turtle was the dragon princess's favourite pet. As gratitude, she invited Urashima Taro to her palace under the sea, and hosted a feast in his name. But as time passed he began to miss his home, and begged his leave. As a parting gift, the dragon princess give him a lacquered box of mysterious, perhaps precious content, never to be opened._

* * *

On that day Hashirama learned to bend the knee for the seas. So vast, so deep, so… blue. He could not stand in its presence. His father had had the right of it, keeping the Senju clan strictly bound to land, children of the earth through and through.

The sailors laughed at him, but he had nothing but respect for them. The steamboat sailed smoothly within view of the bijū. Then it stopped dead, anchored by faith in an invisible rock. Hashirama was fairly forgotten, and he observed the island in peace. It really was an odd island. Pink and orange and green and purple, parts that reminded him of brains, parts that looked almost like earthly vegetations, and an entire section of what looked like fans. This would be the work of the Sanbi, the last of the Rikudo Sennin's nine unearthly children. Unless, Hashirama thought with a queasy feeling that had nothing to do with the sea, there were more than nine bijū.

Hashirama knew not all of them hated humanity. Certainly there was the Kyūbi, tearing at his wife from the inside out with gleeful sadism, counting the days until it would break free and destroy his village in retaliation. Most were dormant until disturbed, usually by shinobi. But the Sanbi was by all accounts a peaceful creature, existing in harmony in nature, and occasionally a boon to humanity. The last free bijū, and Kiri's newest pet if the Mizukage had his way. Hashirama was still considering it.

No one would notice if he left the boat. The sailors had their hands full with nets and traps. Hashirama considered the sea. There was water in abundance, enough for an infinite number of suiton techniques but for the limits of the shinobi, but the earth was too far away for his mokuton.

Well, he still had his hands. With a little more concentration than usual a rowboat emerged from his hands, fully-formed, and he hoped fully-functional. Even as he had it before him, Hashirama hesitated. Surely a small boat would be even more at the mercy of the waves? But he hopped into the boat, and after conjuring the paddles, he started rowing. Mercifully, no waves overturned his humble boat.

The island, he saw from up close, was a living thing. Breathing, rippling, and bristling at his approach, it was without a doubt something only a bijū could make. Hashirama looked down at himself, and realised he'd come empty-handed. Not a good idea, but neither was coming to meet a bijū alone. If Mito had been with him they could have discussed what to give a bijū, after she'd thoroughly eviscerated him.

A frantic moment's search for inspiration turned up a memory of the statue of the Rikudou Sennin sitting in his father-in-law's home. Hashirama wasn't an artist, surely he wouldn't be expected to turn out a perfect replica. He clutched the gift in his hand and said to the island, "Sanbi-san, Sanbi-san. Are you there? A humble man would like to speak to you."

He waited, and felt slightly foolish – how would his voice carry to where the bijū was? But the fans on the island rippled and revealed a strip of dry… land, he supposed, just enough flat surface for his boat. Hashirama carefully manoeuvred the dinghy so that the hull just barely grazed the surface. The ground was firm beneath his feet, and after a brief hesitation he hauled the boat higher, to where the waves couldn't snatch it away. Gift in hand, he followed the path. At the end was the Sanbi, though much smaller than he'd expected, only a little bigger than a man. Hashirama was rather more used to the bijū towering over him, a clear warning of the difference between them.

"May I have your name, human?" rumbled the Sanbi. "I was given to understand it is only polite."

"Ah, my apologies, Sanbi-san. I am only the lowly Hashirama." He bowed, presenting the gift in his hands. "If you would, please accept this as a token of my good will."

The Sanbi's eyes, shining like red stars in the dark, alighted on the statue. Hashirama explained, "It's a statue of the Rikudou Sennin… though I hope you will find it in you to forgive the inaccuracies."

"Yes," said the Sanbi, as thoughtfully as a turtle could be, "Assigning values to miscellaneous trinkets. This, too, is what you humans do. And now, having attempted to evoke my sentimentality as though I was a man like you, what would you have of me, you who are called the god of shinobi?"

Hashirama offered a smile. "Then you have the advantage of me, Sanbi-san – may I call you that?"

The Sanbi's long, thick tails whipped air, and as they did, a wave of nausea unsettled Hashirama, or maybe it was the Sanbi's words. "I know who you are, Senju Hashirama. You have captured all my brothers, you and your mate; and you all are the heretic children of our father. And now you've come for the last in your collection – me."

There was no accusation in the Sanbi's tone. But Hashirama felt blood rushing down from his head, and with it his entire gut, as darkness wove in and out of sight. This is what being in the presence of a bijū meant, echoed from the recesses of his memory. It sounded like Mito's voice, and that helped ground Hashirama to reality. A mass of chakra with a bijū's density did not simply exist; it must also bend reality into an extension of itself. Rot by any other name, Mito had said. To gaze at the Sanbi was to fall into the cracks of the world. And as Hashirama did so the island swayed under his feet, the rhythm hypnotic…

Hashirama held fast to himself. He forced himself to say, "Your father would be the Rikudo Sennin?"

One-eyed and peering through shell, the Sanbi managed to look thoroughly, humanly unimpressed. Though not entirely surprised, Hashirama thought. Nothing to do but bow sincerely, but not apologetically. "I regret that my actions were necessary. Nevertheless, I am beginning to think I might have been… short-sighted. Human lives are but mayfly to you and your brothers, and a more long-lasting solution amenable to all must be achieved. And that is why I would like to invite you to a dinner, Sanbi-san."

The bijū made a sound like a drain being unclogged. "The better to trap me on land, where you have advantage? I think not, son of Ashura."

Hashirama filed the name away for later. "It must be on land, for I cannot provide you with hospitality here. As you can see, my wife is not present, and I think you'd love to meet her. Therefore, I propose a truce for tonight – and perhaps longer. I swear on my name, I will not allow harm to come to you tonight."

A gurgling sound emanated from under the Sanbi's shell, as though it was thinking. "Swearing on your name… ah, that weapon you call honour. Should I be flattered? Tell me, shinobi, did you extend my brothers the same courtesy?"

Hashirama smiled blandly. "I regret to say they would not listen. I was forced to act, lest they continued their aggression against mankind."

"With great regret, no doubt."

Hashirama made a little bow. "Very well, Sanbi-san. I shall not disturb you any longer. But should you find yourself intrigued by shinobi hospitality, my door is always open to you."

A trick of the light made it looked as though the Sanbi was shaking his head. Hashirama sneaked a glance behind his shoulder to ensure his little boat had not floated away. When he looked back, the Sanbi was gone.

Hashirama rowed back to the steamboat with little incident, except for the part where he ran into a strong wave and nearly had to test his swimming skills. He was sorely tempted to row the rest of the way back to shore, but decided he was too rarely not the god of shinobi, and climbed aboard the ship while the fishermen pulled in their last haul. The steamboat, some tons of steel and wood, rocked a little. The boat lumbered back, fat with fish. When Hashirama dared to look beyond the deck the Sanbi was gone, along with its little island.

Upon docking, Hashirama was the last to leave, tumbling down the ramp just as the fishermen were preparing to dislodge him. Hashirama would have worried about what this was doing to his dignity as the Hokage – in front of the children, no less! – if he hadn't been so busy trying not to vomit. Saika in particular went pale and nearly hysterical with worry. He had to laugh it off.

"Not to worry, darling. I simply need to walk it off. Yes, let's take a slow, appreciative walk back to your mother."

She took his arm and supported his weight anyway. Kagami hovered anxiously, making a show of keeping guard. A few other late travelers went with them down the road. Once a wagon stopped by and the driver asked if Hashirama needed a lift, but he cheerfully refused, then doubled over once the wagon left sight. But he was getting better, he told the children, the farther they traveled away from the city and, he silently suspected, the Sanbi.

As though reading his thoughts, Saika said, "Did the Sanbi do something to you, Hokage-sama?"

"Not at all; the Sanbi was a very gracious host. But your Hokage-sama is only a man, and a man is but a drop in the sea. I think that's quite enough, my dear, thank you…"

He pried himself off her, despite her reluctance to release him, and managed to walk all of three steps before the world tipped over. Saika was there again, catching him with a grunt. "Such a good girl, Saika-chan, you're the only child I'd ever need," he said effusively.

Saika's cheek was warm where his fingers brushed against her. "Because I'm the only one you could have," she mumbled, flashing him a nervous, toothy smile. Then quickly, she said, "But Hokage-sama, about the Sanbi – "

"Not to worry, Saika-chan, the Sanbi will not attack."

Raw frustration flashed in her eyes – a rare sight indeed. But then Kagami piped up, "I told you Hokage-sama would take care of it."

Saika's lips twitched downward. "I wasn't – " She turned to Hashirama with pleading eyes. "It wasn't you I doubted."

He favoured her with a sunny smile. "Of course not, darling."

With each step the sky was getting darker, and the road ahead emptier. Against the backdrop of sunset, men appeared with weapons in hand. Hashirama counted seven, with one crossbow at the back, hidden from direct sight. Though not a sensor like his wife, he could sense these were mundane men, mere bandits instead of Kiri shinobi on duty. Hashirama was pleasantly surprised; it must have meant their current guise of a sick man and his adolescent children seemed genuine.

"Gentlemen, surely we can solve this without violence?" said Hashirama kindly. In his mind fighting non-shinobi, even bandits, would be akin to beating a child.

Crossbow man evidently didn't think so, and fired a bolt. It never reached its target – Kagami sliced the bolt in two with his kunai. Then the battle was joined. Hashirama sighed as seven grown men converged on Kagami. He nudged Saika to help the boy, and with one last uncertain look at him, Saika jumped at the nearest bandit. Hashirama watched her closely. It gnawed at his heart to simply stand back and watch, but as Mito told him, this must happen one day. His greatest task as the Hokage and as a father was to ensure the children were ready for his inevitable death.

So he watched Saika disarm the bandit. She failed to follow through immediately, but the bandit was slow enough that she managed a tap at a pressure point. He was still breathing, Hashirama saw. And on the edge of his vision, Kagami was effortlessly slicing a man's jugular.

But even as Saika's quarry went down, the crossbow man had wound his next arrow, and fired. Hashirama saw the attack coming… and stood still. Surely Saika would be able to evade… but she did not, and Kagami took the bolt for her in his shoulder. Without pause, Kagami spat a ball of fire back at the bandit.

"Kagami-kun!" Saika cried, seemingly torn between attending to Kagami's bleeding wound and the burning and screaming man. As Kagami was grinning through the pain and otherwise remained upright, the latter won. She produced a scroll and unfurled it, revealing a prepared seal of some sort. The purpose soon became clear when the flames were vacuumed into the center of the seal, where the logograph for fire then appeared. Kagami made appreciative noises, and Hashirama found himself nodding approvingly. Weak thought she might be in direct combat, his daughter compensated with preparation. Although the part of him that was the Hokage rued that she could not have grown stronger first before dabbling in pacifism.

But she didn't seem to notice, more worried instead by the dying man. "We must save him." She turned to Hashirama with great pleading eyes, and Hashirama's objection died in his throat.

Kagami said, "But we can't just leave him alive, Saika-san. Not when he's seen us."

"Now, now, Kagami-kun," said Hashirama, "complete stealth is not strictly necessary for our purposes. By the time the relevant parties discover our activities, secrecy will be unnecessary."

With a stretch of his hand, vines embraced the bandit, cocooning him within. Hashirama smiled at Saika. "I swear on my name as the Hokage that this will not kill him."

She started. "No, Hokage-sama, I didn't think – of course you wouldn't kill him."

Satisfied, Hashirama moved to tend to the Uchiha boy. The boy bit his lip and heroically did not let a single sound escape as Hashirama removed the arrow first, then bound the wound with vines as he would with bandages. Then as gratitude for protecting his daughter, Hashirama patted Kagami's head fondly.

The children were quiet this time, thoughtful as they raced in the darkness.

Saika spoke up first. "The Mizukage wants war no matter what, doesn't he? Hokage-sama."

"So dour, Saika-chan. Have you been listening to your uncle?" Apparently so, for she didn't look convinced by his levity. Hashirama sighed. "As a leader the Mizukage must always prioritise his people first, their safety, their prosperity… everything. He must be strong, and he must not be seen to capitulate to outsiders."

"But you're a leader, too," she said, "And yet you'd still hand him a jinchūriki, even knowing he would definitely use it against us."

"Well," Hashirama said slowly, "I don't _know_ that for certain…" But Tobirama's girl that she was, Saika didn't seem to believe that one either. "Do you doubt your old man, darling?"

Saika spluttered. "N-no, Hokage-sama, of course not…"

Hashirama laughed and ruffled her head. "I'm just teasing you. But all the same, I do not intend to plunge us into war – or danger, or the making of a new jinchūriki if I can help it."

"No, but… this peace is very important to you, isn't it?"

"It is… to the extent that I can speak this without cursing myself, it is the most important thing I'll have ever done. For you, Saika-chan, and your children, and their children. Oh, and you too, Kagami-kun. Konoha was the fruition of my childhood dreams with Madara – and how far has it exceeded my wildest imaginations! – but this will be the work of many lifetimes. And I will need you children to help me."

It was night when they finally made it back, and the Mizukage's men had already finished with the cooking. The Mizukage had been generous, providing the Konoha delegation with hot meals every morning and night, in addition to whatever else they needed. It was also, Mito had pointed out, a convenient way to check if Hashirama had brewed a nefarious plot in his borrowed castle.

Hashirama waited until the Kiri helpmeet had left before he appeared before his wife as himself. Mito's lips were pursed as she looked at him up and down, never a good sign. Hashirama smiled his most charming smile and said, "Hello, my love—" He stopped cold as Mito laid a hand on his cheek.

"You reek of the sea and bijū, Hokage-sama," Mito said coolly. Hashirama's silence was all the answer she needed. "You have come into close proximity of the Sanbi, despite promising you would not take rash actions, despite promising you would take care of _your_ daughter. Where is she?"

"She's well," Hashirama said quickly. Few things tested Mito's temper quicker than the subject of her daughter. "And I didn't bring her too close to the Sanbi – I alone went to speak with it. It was very cordial; the Sanbi didn't attack." He made a promise to himself to mention the bandit attack later, when they had the time. There were no lasting consequences.

Her forehead crinkled just a bit. "Of course you did. And invited it to dinner, too."

Whether Mito's intuition was sarcasm or prescience, the answer was still, "Yes, but I don't know if it will come for certain."

Mito sighed, and drew back. "It seems that we are having a guest regardless. The Mizukage approaches as we speak. Go change, Hashirama… and the children as well, if you can find them."

Hashirama found the children – Danzou having joined them at some point – in the boys' room, huddled together in conspiracy, and told them to prepare for a dinner with the Mizukage. Then he waited outside as Saika went about her business in the room she shared with her parents. Then it was his turn. Somehow he shrugged out of his shinobi gears and into the more formal clothes Mito had prepared. The jacket was silk, as was the shirt and the trousers, black with golden threads embroidered artfully to represent the idea of leaves. He would hardly trot out this ensemble back home. But here by the sea, standing next to the Mizukage's even more gaudy silk, Hashirama felt underdressed.

To naked eyes, the Mizukage had come alone. Outside, Kirigakure ANBU dangled from every convenient point of entry. Hashirama wanted to invite them inside, had not he himself been a guest of the Mizukage. Hashirama swooped in and rescued Mito from small talk. "Mizukage-dono, to what do we owe this honor?"

The Mizukage's teeth flashed in the light in all their pearly, razor sharp glory. "I do hope I am not intruding. But I merely seek to redress a negligence, perhaps over dinner."

The dishes were excellent as usual to Hashirama's philistine palate: abalone, oyster, lobster, and more turtle, all cooked with equally exotic spices that pricked his tongue and stung his palate. With exception of the turtle, they were dishes previously unseen. The talking point that had been neglected was about these very same spices, and their possible trade routes. If Hashirama didn't know any better, he'd have thought the Mizukage was trying to impress him. But he was only a lord proud of his domain. He hadn't brought up the Sanbi so far; Hashirama took the dinner as a hopeful sign that the Mizukage was as invested in the treaty as he was.

One moment the Mizukage was amiably asking Saika potboiler questions, the next he stood, head tilted as though hearing an invisible call. So did Hashirama, and together they rushed outside. The Mizukage's ANBU were circling an utterly unassuming man. Utterly unassuming, except for a gaze which penetrated the dark, and in the darkness, Hashirama could see the ocean in his eyes. And just like that he was back on a flimsy boat, at the mercy of the sea's waves, his stomach rolling this way and that way without him. Hashirama shuddered. He was on land, and he had a guest to treat.

"Welcome, Sanbi-san," Hashirama said loudly before the Mizukage could order his ANBU to strike. "I am delighted you have decided to join us. Ah, this is the Mizukage, the true host of this place."

Gengetsu recovered quickly enough. "Yes… pardon me, but you are…"

The Sanbi's lips quirked slightly, as though forced to bend. "You're an impudent man, Senju Hashirama. But I accept your host's – " His arm flopped carelessly at the ANBU surrounding him. " – hospitality. Hail, Mizukage. You are not known to me by name as Senju Hashirama is, but I greet you all the same."

"Very well, then," Gengetsu said in an oily voice. He dismissed his ANBU with a measured wave of his own hand. Shadows from the torches danced on his white teeth. "How can I refuse such a distinguished guest?"

Mito looked positively alarmed as she laid her eyes on the Sanbi – and something rippled across the bijū's human face. It was enough to give Hashirama gooseflesh. Putting himself between the two, Hashirama said, "Dear wife, allow me to introduce you to…. Dear honourable guest, how do you wish to be known?"

"Isobu," the Sanbi rumbled, still transfixed at Mito and Mito only.

Hashirama clapped his hands, startling everyone, and raising a chair and an extension for the dining table. He snapped his fingers, and a wooden bowl, a plate and a glass, and a pair of chopsticks sprouted from the table. "Very good! Please, have a seat, Isobu-san."

The Sanbi merely stared at the chair, as though unsure how to use it. Just as Hashirama wondered whether helping would be more or less rude, the Sanbi gingerly approached the table and drew the chair. When he was seated it felt as though the table lost and gained its tension in the same breath. Hashirama and the Mizukage took their places as well.

Mito surprised Hashirama by addressing the Sanbi. "Would you like some fish soup, Isobu-san?" she said with steel in her voice.

The Sanbi stuck out its neck, as though it was its way of nodding. With a nod from Mito, Saika bravely served it a portion. _But would the Sanbi know how to use eating utensils?_ Hashirama wondered. As it happened, he needn't have; the Sanbi held a spoon at the tip, but otherwise it took its first sip with little trouble.

Then it turned its unblinking eyes on Hashirama. "I have accepted your invitation and tasted your strange hospitality; I have spoken to your wife. Now tell me, Senju Hashirama, what folly you desire."

"Ah," Hashirama said, fingers flexing on the edge of the wooden table, steeling himself for his proposal. To his surprise, it was Mito who answered first. "Please have patience, Isobu-san. Our hospitality extends far beyond a single taste – indeed, you have yet to experience a proper dinner conversation, and every guest must be allowed to fill themselves to their satisfaction."

"Hm," the Sanbi grunted, gazing around the table as though noting the other guests for the first time. It said nothing of the wide-eyed genin. Saika held its attention too long for Hashirama's comfort, but eventually it turned to Hashirama again.

"And these children, none of whom are yours, are they too here by this hospitality… and reared by the same." it said with a curious note of respect. But it didn't matter; the damage was done. The boys looked fairly nonplussed (Kagami) and indifferent (Danzou) at best – as they ought, this matter not concerning either of them at all. But Saika's expression was very carefully blank, and Hashirama knew his daughter well enough to realise the Sanbi's revelation was not one at all. How long had she known, he wondered, but pushed it out of mind.

"All children of Konoha are precious to me," said Hashirama as he tried to catch his daughter's eye, but she seemed to have found the Sanbi more interesting, and then the Mizukage. Reminded of his opposite number, and the purpose of this dinner, Hashirama said, "If you are curious, Isobu-san, I'm sure we can arrange more opportunities for a closer witnessing. Would you like to spend some time in our village, as my guest?"

The reactions were instant and near unanimous. The Mizukage's expression clouded immediately, the children made noises, and Mito went very serene. Hashirama tried sending a covert smile to Mito to show he knew what he was doing, but she reserved her gaze for the Sanbi.

"You're an honest fool, Senju Hashirama," the Sanbi said languidly. "Tell me, which of these children will be my prison… the girl, perhaps… like her mother before her."

Hashirama shook his head empathically. "You misunderstand, Isobu-san. I would have you as a guest, free to come and leave as you will, for as long as you are not a threat to my village and my people. You will not have to participate in my wars; indeed, I mean to make peace, even peace between bijū and shinobi."

"The fate of my brothers would seem to conspire against you. But be that as it may, I am inclined to indulge your foolishness." In a jerky move that seemed disconnected, the Sanbi stood and extended his arm to Saika. "I will have this girl visit my humble abode, first. I do not have a home, but I shall for this night only. This child of your mate, who is precious to you. Show me your trust, and I shall show you mine."

He was aware of everyone watching him, especially Saika, pallid and imploring. Such trust she held in her eyes! Hashirama said, "Ah, but surely it would be more equal were I to visit you in turn?"

"Yet I do not seek subjugation."

The decision came easily to Hashirama, maybe too easily. But he had always known that the jinchūriki were only a temporary solution, and that an everlasting peace would have to include the bijū. As the Hokage, he had sent countless shinobi to their deaths. He had, at times, prioritised sending his clansmen, for his trust in their abilities. His clan, his brother, his wife… his only child. And one day, Saika would have to be strong without him. The Sanbi, he reasoned, would be safe. Out of all the bijū, it was the only one who had found a way to coexist with humans, and had even brought them small benefits from time to time. And it had come and accepted his invitation, despite the possibility of a trap, despite its bafflement – it seemed intrigued. His instincts told him he could trust the Sanbi.

"Very well, Sanbi-san," he said loudly and firmly, and explained his reasoning for the others' benefit, "I sense no deceit in you. As you have granted me the honour of your presence, so shall I be honoured to have my daughter accompany you back home."

Hashirama half-expected the Mizukage to try to interject again, but surprisingly it was Kagami instead. "Wait, Hokage-sama! Shouldn't I – I mean, Danzou and I – go with Saika-san, since we're in the same team?"

The Sanbi seemed interested. "More children. How quaint. And welcome." It was the only one pleased with the arrangement. Saika had never looked so small and helpless… for the first time Hashirama wondered if he'd made a mistake.

Mito abruptly stood. "Please excuse us, Hokage-sama," she said coolly. Mito's rage had progressed beyond the prickling gooseflesh on his arms and into the flutter in his heart. Hashirama gave a feeble nod, for appearance's sake, as his wife and daughter ducked out of the room.

He had no time to speculate as to the topic of their secret discussion, for the Mizukage leaned in and said, _sotto voce_ , "Pardon me for being blunt, Hokage-dono, but do you not realise this is a breach in our agreement?"

"I'm sorry that you should think so, Mizukage-dono, but please be assured this is all in accordance with our agreement. Would you not understand, as one leader to another, the desire to protect one's people for longer than one's life? Should I succeed, the Sanbi will not only no longer be your problem, it would be your ally."

The Mizukage murmured, "How very thoughtful of you, Hokage-dono."

Dinner proceeded in restrained silence, punctuated by stately small talk, that not even the return of Hashirama's wife and daughter could dislodge. None, except that the Sanbi abruptly stood as though ejected by a spring. Its neck jerked pointedly at the children. "It is done. Come, children."

Hashirama, too, rose from his seat in an instant, battle instincts coming alive despite himself. "Now, if you'd just wait – "

Its beady eyes stared unblinkingly at Hashirama. "I have finished my dinner; I have received all your hospitality has to offer. It is now my turn. On your honour, I shall deliver these children to you personally with a turn of the sun. Farewell."

Mist fell over Hashirama's vision, thick and heavy on his limbs. He could neither see nor move. The mist was Kirigakure's famed technique – but he heard the Mizukage drew a sharp breath. The Sanbi, then. Thoughts of treachery and worry for the children set Hashirama's chakra whirling and raging. Yet the mist disappeared only when it was meant to, when the children or the Sanbi were nowhere to be seen.

* * *

 _Thanks to elenathehun and roadkill2580 for beta reading this chapter, and also helping me unsnarl the plot. There's just the finale to go._


	3. des

A/N: Beta-reading credits go to theroadkillcafe, and also a special thanks to elenathehun for listening to my blathers. Here's to another WIP completed!

* * *

 _When Urashima Taro returned to his village, three hundred years had passed. Everyone he had known had passed away; his house had been destroyed, and rebuilt into a part of a market. At a loss, he turned to the box that was the dragon princess's gift._

* * *

Hashirama's dream began with the death of his brothers, an inchoate yearning for a place they could have been safe in – formless, boundless, nonexistent. If it hadn't been for his temporary exile with the mysterious Uzumaki, that was all his dream (and Madara's, he'd then still believed) would ever have amounted to. There he had awakened the mokuton, the singular means by which his dream would be realised; there also he had met his future wife. With her – or truthfully, through her, he'd found the means to secure his legacy. He'd even ound that he had a legacy to secure. Now he dreamed of red-haired children who would maintain his trees - and perhaps grew more. In reality, he might only have one, and that one at the expense of the lives of so many. Even so, Hashirama had contented himself with his only child, and a wife who could never bear him another without more sacrifice.

Though they both had come a long way since those inadequate first impressions, there were still moments when Mito could make Hashirama feel small. There were, perhaps, too many moments that nevertheless had never inured him. Even so, Hashirama couldn't attend to her – the Mizukage was watching, never more like a shark than in the present.

Hashirama clapped his hands, breaking the spell. "And there you have it, Mizukage-dono. Now I must avail you to be patient, and to please come back… perhaps in a day?"

"You would be a dangerous ally, Hokage-dono," Gengetsu drawled, "And yet almost too amusing to destroy. A most vexing adversary I would not wish on my successors. Very well, you shall entertain us a while longer."

With the Mizukage departed, and the Sanbi as well, the absence of Saika and the boys was almost palpable. And his wife's displeasure no longer deniable.

Hashirama turned to her the picture of confidence. "My love, I am also worried, but I assure you – "

Mito stood abruptly, eyes wild and emotions rampant as she said, "Don't you dare promise what you are powerless to enforce, as though I am a mere woman, weak and addlepated. I, who knows the bijuu more intimately than any man alive; I dare not regard them as simple wild horses."

"I haven't underestimated the bijuu," Hashirama said calmly, "nor Saika. The time fast approaches when she must face the travails of life without us." And especially because of who they were: Hashirama and Mito, her parents, a couple with too many enemies. "You have raised her well, my dear; have faith in that. And even so, you of all people must have sensed it – there was no malice in the Sanbi."

"When you step on an ant, must there be malice?" Her chin wobbled slightly. He wouldn't dare interpret that as a sign of weakness. A battle must have been waged within even now, the demon fox ever attempting to ablate its way out of its prison. Inner turmoil seemed to excite it especially.

"Is it our permanent tenant?" he said, an old joke for old time's sake. Mito grimaced, but she leaned into his caress.

"If anything happened to my daughter," Mito began.

Hashirama drew her into him. "She's my daughter too; she'd be fine. But that is why she must do this alone: trouble will find her because she is my daughter. And when I'm gone Konoha will be in her hands… but before that, I will ensure peace."

For a moment there was peace, with a distant sound of waves crashing into the beachhead. Mito broke free from his arms, gently, and started to fuss with his clothes. Then he had the sense of being folded, of the space next to him rushing into an embrace.

Saika appeared in the midst, looking absolutely terrified. Only after ascertaining she was not harmed did Hashirama notice Danzou in her arms, gravely wounded and unconscious. Even as she cried for her dear father to help him he had begun work to stabilise the boy. The last of his line, his father and grandfather had perished for the sake of Konoha; Shimura Danzou was to be one of the faces of a new generation of shinobi. If he were to die here…

It wasn't a question worth contemplating – within moments Hashirama had had him stabilised, safe within the nurturing cocoon of his mokuton. Saika was nearly beside herself with relief, or worry. And that made the absence of their third member all the more urgent.

"Where's Kagami?" Hashirama asked not unkindly, but Saika froze and avoided his eye. It was not so much a confirmation of his fate as her guilt. Hashirama staved off the fretting over the Uchiha clan's reaction to one of their most promising scions being dead – for now. "Explain."

She did, haltingly. "The Sanbi had him. He – Danzou-kun was injured, so in exchange for letting him and myself go, Kagami-kun…"

Mito looked grimly vindictive, but Hashirama pressed his daughter. "How did Danzou become injured?"

"The Sanbi – "

"Did you provoke the Sanbi?" Her startle was all the confirmation Hashirama did. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he – very patiently! – implored her, "Saika-chan, _what did you do._ "

"I – we tried to seal the Sanbi, using Okaa-sama's seal – "

Hashirama whirled at his wife, blazing with a fury such that he hadn't felt in years, not since Madara's last moments at the Valley of the End. "It wasn't her idea!" Saika protested, but Hashirama had eyes and ears only for Mito. His wife matched his intensity, defiant.

"Will you now berate your daughter for taking her lessons to heart: to be prepared for all possibilities?" said Mito.

"I wouldn't have sent her into danger!" he snapped, hurt beyond reason. And yet, so long as there was a shadow of doubt, he must perish it. To Saika, he said gently, "Why, Saika-chan? Were you threatened?"

He had hoped against hope she had been – it would have been an irrational and novice reaction, but on the whole fitting for a girl her age and rank. As Saika shrank away from him, he realised his instinct was to scold her for such a cowardly act. And, oh, her excuses: "I… I saw an opening. It wasn't threatening me! B-but I thought about what you said – about peace – and also Okaa-sama's experience with the bijuu, and I… I wanted to do something useful, for once."

It took all his being to not simply blurt out his incredulity. Of all the times to assert herself, it had been when her meekness was required! He managed, "You will stay here, _with your mother_ , while I retrieve Kagami."

But she clung to him tighter. "W-wait, it's a trap, the Sanbi is using Kagami-kun as a bait for you," she said.

Finally, Hashirama looked at her, and saw. A spoiled and cowardly girl, and selfish as only an unworthy heir could be. And in her place, it was a boy like Uchiha Kagami, pure and courageous, who was sacrificed. And with him, not only the negotiations with the Mizukage, or the Sanbi itself, but also the slow, painful budding of trust between himself and the Uchiha clan.

"If he dies," Hashirama said. "If either of these boys die, his blood will be in your hands."

Saika stilled, and wilted away from him. Eyes as bright as fire and just as vacuous stared at Hashirama. They were not his eyes, just as nothing of hers was his. But he supposed he had always been selfish when it came to his child. Having a jinchuuriki give birth, despite the risks. And now, just as she had begun life with taking another's blood, must Saika go on to have lives sacrificed for her sake?

Hashirama sighed to himself. He patted her head, and his hand came to rest on her shoulder. "You have your father's eyes, would that you have his better traits as well," he said quietly.

* * *

Out at the sea, at the centre of it all, not so near that he could swim to it, nor so far he couldn't see it, was the Sanbi's island. Hashirama produced his little boat without a thought, and rowed. Moonlight illuminated his path, and the waves neither invited nor discouraged him – he rather thought he sometimes rode the waves. The Sanbi was waiting for him, a shadow lurking within darkness that no amount of moonlight could dispel. But it was small yet, just the right size to hold a conversation with while looming over Hashirama. He decided it was a good sign.

"You have come, Senju Hashirama."

Behind the bijuu, just out of sight, was a coral cage containing Uchiha Kagami. He'd immediately bounced to his feet upon seeing him. "Hokage-sama! It's a trap!"

Hashirama beamed at him, all assurance. "I would never abandon you, Kagami-kun. But are you all right?"

"I am, but what about Saika-san? And Danzou?"

He glanced at the Sanbi, but it seemed content to watch. "They're quite fine. Now, I am quite happy to see you unharmed, Kagami-kun. Do I have you to thank for that, Isobu-san? And I must apologise for my daughter's truly regrettable actions. Please don't blame her, for it was my fault – "

"It was your will."

Hashirama considered, and decided it was a question in good faith; the Sanbi still hadn't moved. "My daughter is yet young and inexperienced, and truly, my instructions must have been, ah, incomplete – "

"But is she not a creature entirely of your making, in all the ways that matter? Surely there is no better foretaste of living in your domain, among your people."

The Sanbi of all things could be counted on having a very interesting concept of its own, well, conception. Hashirama put his arms at attention behind his back. "May I be frank, Isobu-san?"

"No," the Sanbi said, "you speak pretty words, Senju Hashirama, all meant to dazzle. My father had no patience for your kind. Charlatans. I do not know what it means, but it must be terrible, for he said it with venom. I should have heeded him."

"Then I implore you to also heed his desires – for peace, with his kind, among us, his descendants."

"There are other paths to peace." This, Hashirama decided to treat as a threat, and if it wasn't it was the perfect opening.

"There are," Hashirama agreed, and not without a measure of sympathy, "I have tried one such path with your brother. Now, I am a fool, but even I know that such measures would not last. Once again, I am offering you a different path, dare I say better, for the sake of a true peace."

The Sanbi appeared to digest this. Abruptly, it said, "Your child. Return her here. Alone she shall stay by my side. I will not tolerate another deceit."

"Ah, that…" Hashirama temporised, and stalled. Saika's tear was barely dry on his breast. But was that all? He rather thought there had to be more: more rationale, more reasonable negotiation, more cachet given to his vision of peace.

Unblinking eyes bore into his, from the depth of an infinite abyss. There was no need for words – there was never a need for words, Hashirama realised. Still, the Sanbi said, "It does not change, then, the nature of man."

Hashirama shook his head sadly. "Not our best, nor our worst." Then brought his hands together.

Wood tore through Kagami's cage and snatched the boy as coral moved to swallow him. Hashirama brought his hands together, forming a mokuton hammer falling on the Sanbi, one eye watching his clone making an escape with Kagami on his little boat. He saw the Sanbi about to shift – and was still surprised when the island was yanked from under his feet. Hashirama plunged into icy, harsh water. Darkness closed around him, immobilising him, pulling him down. This was the Sanbi's chakra. He felt rather than saw a yawning abyss, and thought more than felt his arms covering his head, and his mokuton with them. Even with the wood nullifying much of the bijuu's chakra, the force blew Hashirama out of the waters. All he could think of was that he must not under any circumstances return under the sea and into the Sanbi's embrace. He vaguely felt – as though through a muzzle – himself landing on hard wood – a palm, his faithful mokuton coming to his rescue.

Hashirama coughed and hacked, but no matter how much water he spewed more still seemed to cling to his lungs; darkness clung to the edge of his vision. Breathing was a tortured affair, and though he hadn't moved he seemed to have plunged back into water. The weight of the ocean crushed on him as the darkness fast grew…

Then as though from far away, the grating sound of a collision between an irresistible force and an unmovable object. A familiar warmth pressed against the back of his head. The sardonic voice that was like balm to his soul, "Look at you now."

Freed from the Sanbi's pressure, Hashirama gasped and blinked up at his wife's impassive face. Then he noticed the red, whisker-like mark on her cheeks. Not impassive, then, merely concentrating on controlling the Kyuubi within her. "Mito! Why – is Saika – " he started, relief turning into worry.

"That foolish child of mine begged for me to come and save _her father_ ," Mito said archly. "Be thankful for her foresight. I take it the negotiation didn't go well."

They watched as the Sanbi struggled with Mito's golden adamantium chains, blazing with fury – Mito's and the bijuu within her both, Hashirama thought, both aimed at him primarily.

"It wanted Saika," he said evenly, "I couldn't give it that."

"This time."

Hashirama shook his head. "I shall speak with Saika later. My dear, if you would be so patient, would you lend me your powers?"

Mito's grin was not entirely the bijuu's influence either. At the same time, golden chains exploded with a deafening roar. The Sanbi's fury was oppressive, pressing on his flesh, on his mind. But not on Mito. It was perhaps unfair, that he had with him the strongest of the bijuu housed in an eminently agreeable and singular being. And together they'd had practice. As Mito sent out her chains, Hashirama opened himself to nature. There was plenty of water, and not nearly enough earth. It should be enough.

As the Sanbi blasted its way out of the chains, Hashirama's wood dragons descended on it. Mito produced a scroll and a lacquer box dark with chakra-infused ink; both, he knew, were inscribed with seals only that afternoon. The scroll she unfurled on the platform, channeling chakra into the seal. At her nod, Hashirama brought the dragons – and the struggling Sanbi they contained – closer.

"Treacherous vermins! You never meant for peace! So shall everything you love be destroyed – "

Even having witnessed it so many times, with the bijuu themselves, and even with mundane consequences of living with a fuuinjutsu master, seeing it in action still took his breath away. The Sanbi seemed to be folded, even as it retained its shape. But first its excesses, its presence was extinguished – sucked, really, into the lacquer box – and he felt the oppressive weight of its being and power as it passed through. And then it was gone, leaving a vacuum in time and space.

Mito stopped the lacquer box, and handed it to him wordlessly. Equally wordlessly, Hashirama wrapped it in mokuton. Then thought of it. He could take it back to the Mizukage, seal it inside his little shark boy for a sumptuous price. Peace for their lifetime, if he so desired, a world where even his feeble daughter could thrive in. And a gaol for the Sanbi, and a life of doing other's bidding for gaol and prisoner both. Once Hashirama was out of the picture (for he had no delusions of his mortality), another weapon for Kiri to threaten Konoha with. "I don't suppose there's a fuuin for sinking?"

As it turned out, there was. He let the lacquer box go before its artificial weight could crush his hands, and watched as it disappeared into the dark sea. Hashirama sank to his knees, swaying, and had to clutch at his wife's legs to stabilise himself.

Mito had put away the Kyuubi for the time being, and rolled her eyes, and combed through his filthy hair. "I don't suppose you have given a thought as to what Mizukage-dono would do?"

"My dear, I don't give a damn what he would do; and if he were half the man I thought he would be, neither would he."

And indeed both Saika and Kagami waited for them by the beach. Hashirama was relieved to land on solid ground once more. More relieved to see either unharmed. Saika had taken a step forward, but at the last moment she held herself. Hashirama sighed, exhausted. "You have failed your mission – so much so that your Hokage had to set it right himself. What do you say for yourself?"

Kagami opened his mouth, but for Saika's touch on his shoulder. She bowed in a perfect arc, eyes dry, and expression set. "We apologise, Hokage-sama. It will not happen again."

He nodded woodenly. This, he realised, was the extent that could be expected from her. The revelation hit him with fatigue more than the fight with the Sanbi had. He felt sorrow too, sudden and deep like a limb cut off in one clean motion. "You may leave. Reflect on what you did tonight, and what you could have done better."

Mito's glare burned at his back, but Hashirama ignored her for the rest of the night. He was tired; let her speak her mind if she had something to say; she had never held herself off.

As promised, the Mizukage showed up the very next morning at a barely reasonable hour. His lips tightened when Hashirama told him, which much regret, that the Sanbi would not cooperate, and had to be contained. For Kiri's sake, more than Hashirama's.

"I see," was all the Mizukage said, and, "I must have overestimated your strength. Or perhaps it was your commitment to peace."

Hashirama interrupted, "Or perhaps you were only considering who it was that needed peace more, Mizukage-dono."

Shark-like teeth glinted in the morning sun. The Mizukage suddenly did an about face, and left as abruptly as he had come. "The Mizukage is a smart man; he'd see that there is no reason for us to go to war now," Hashirama said to Saika on the journey home. It was a rare chance where they were alone in Hashirama and Mito's tent, Saika fixing Hashirama's sleeping bag for him. She'd been anxious about something – the Mizukage's unspoken threat, he guessed.

Crouching, Saika started, and slowly nodded. He knew her well enough that she was still brimming with questions, and attempted to coax it out of her. "May I ask…" Hashirama nodded. "… What happened to the Sanbi…?"

"Ah, is that what had distracted you so." She had the grace to look ashamed at having been noticed. "You need not fear the Sanbi any longer… and for a while, it needs not fear the Mizukage, nor myself, or any other humans. Would you like to know why?"

Pensive, she nodded, and this was all the confirmation Hashirama needed that he'd made the right choice. "It's because it had asked for you once more, darling. And if I have learned anything from this excursion, it is that you are far too precious to me. In fact, it was the Sanbi who had helped me realise that." A creature entirely of his making in all the ways that mattered, the Sanbi had said. But the Sanbi was not human, after all. It could not see one important aspect, the one that had blindsided Hashirama. Or to put it simply, where he had gone so wrong with Saika.

"What happened yesterday was my fault. I have… not been paying attention to you. Please allow me to finish, darling." She nodded, abashed for nearly leaping into his defense, and interrupting him in the process. "I should have noticed you are your own person. And perhaps then I would have noticed how it must have burdened you, being my child." But it also made sense that he hadn't – Being Senju Butsuma's firstborn had come with its own burdens, yes, but of a different nature, one Hashirama could surmount with his natural strength… and sheer stubbornness. Yet another thing that distinguished Saika from himself. Hashirama pushed his shattered dream aside for now; the issue of Konoha's longevity could wait.

He must have hit on the heart of the issue, for her face was carefully blank. Hashirama smiled ruefully, and laid a hand on her shoulder. "But I understand now. And I do so swear I would never send you into a peril more than you could handle – I will never send you into peril at all."

After a moment, Saika nodded solemnly. So they had come back from their mission without a treaty, or even the last bijuu. It was not a total loss; he had meant to take the children with him that they may learn; he himself wound up learning. Altogether, Hashirama, in his capacity as the Hokage, counted the mission as a success.


End file.
